The cover of George Lewis Jr.'s second album as Twin Shadow, Confess, features the man himself standing still, looking at the camera with a pained seriousness, decked out in a leather jacket. The photo brings to mind the "ton-up boys" motorcycle subculture from 1950s Britain, and the biker fixation doesn't stop there. Lewis is the proud owner of a gold-flecked 1972 Triumph Bonneville, and the surreal video for Confess' first single, "Five Seconds", features a motorcycle gang. But his explanation for the cover image, conveyed to me at the indoor rooftop restaurant of Manhattan's Gramercy Hotel on a balmy afternoon, is simple: "I'm a good-looking guy, so there's an attractive male on the cover of my record... I dig the way I look because I dig the places I come from."

Born in the Dominican Republic and raised in Florida, Lewis moved to Brooklyn in the middle of the last decade. He released his debut LP as Twin Shadow, Forget, back in 2010, a record that drew thematic inspiration from the complicated lives of friends and family while growing up in Florida, as well as the end of a long-term, long-distance relationship: "That record was me remembering things, and forgetting them," he said. "Like, 'I'm so done with that.'"

If Forget was steeped in memories of the past, Confess is decidedly about the present. "This album is about being on the road and the way my relationships have changed with people. I'm spelling out my reality as it is right now." It's a bolder and fuller-sounding record than its predecessor, and Lewis produced Confess on his own, instead of working again with Grizzly Bear multi-instrumentalist and Forget producer/collaborator Chris Taylor. "I never want to be resentful towards another person for fucking up my creative process, since I can be persuaded to go in a direction I wouldn't want. I'd rather just work it out with myself."

Pitchfork: Where did the inspiration for the "Five Seconds" video come from?

George Lewis Jr.: I wrote a novel called Night of the Silver Sun with my friend Eric Green. It's about a motorcycle gang in the future. The video is the prologue to the story, and it's about friendship, in a way; two black motorcyclists who are fighting the good fight. I thought it'd be cool to make a series of videos that are connected to each other, so we also shot a video for "Patient" as well that continues the story.

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Pitchfork: The video premiered in Times Square here in New York. How do you feel about that area of the city?

GLJ: I don't have the big problem that all my peers seem to have with it. It's just like Disney World-- and Disney World's really fucking fun. A lot of people think Times Square got cleaned up, but it's just as grimy, in an even more sadistic way. It's just as gnarly as it ever was, minus the hookers. I've been on acid in Times Square. It was when I first moved to New York, about seven years ago, and it was awesome. We walked downtown from Harlem and peaked in Times Square. It was a real laugh.

"Waking up in the hospital on two separate occasions
on one tour was a huge reality check."

Pitchfork: What is your relationship with drugs like?

GLJ: These days, I'm fond of the things that doctors prescribe you, but otherwise I'm pretty mellow. Forget was definitely an uppers record. I was obsessing over it to the point where I'd need to work on a song for 12-15 hours straight, so it'd take a lot of coffee, a little bit of coke, and a lot of vodka. A vodka and coffee combo in the early morning, especially. Making Confess was a very sober experience, almost in a hippie-ish way-- I was doing yoga. Music's always been a sobering place for me. I know it's a cliche, but I get high off music.

We had a lot of hard touring, and I really indulged myself. I abused substances, I abused women. I'm going to get in so much trouble for saying that, but it's true. It's just the nature of the road, and everybody does it. I started building really awkward relationships with people who I hardly knew, having these incredibly personal experiences, completely cutting myself off from them, and then coming back in. It all piled up along with me not taking care of myself, doing coke every single night. I had a moment where I thought, "I've definitely been a little drunk every time we've played. I wonder if I could play without that."

I had to go to the hospital a few times during our last U.S. tour, and it was scary. I don't really know what happened to me. I just thought I was going to die. Waking up in the hospital on two separate occasions on one tour was a huge reality check. We cancelled two shows on that tour, and that was what bugged me the most. It's not cool to cancel shows. Those people in those cities spent their $20 to see you. You got to be there, and I want to be there.

Pitchfork: Are you afraid of death?

GLJ: Yeah, I don't like the idea of it because I'm enjoying myself here, and I'd like to continue to enjoy myself. I'm definitely more aware of death since my hospital stays. I don't want to be on the front page of websites saying, "Oh well, G.L.J checked out on us," and then the next day, everyone forgets about me.

I'm trying to make music that will last. I put that care into it. My creating artifacts isn't a prideful thing, but a way for me to continue to communicate with the world that I'm not a part of anymore. That's important, and it's a beautiful thing, one of the rare things that human beings have developed. We're one of those animals that can actually leave the world and continue to speak. There's a lot of people who've done that. John Lennon still moves people now as he did when he was alive. I think that's an incredible gift that we've been given.

Pitchfork: Are there any specific people you're addressing on Confess?

GLJ: It's a lot of people. A lot of friends, a lot of lovers, a lot of different relationships.

Pitchfork: When was the last long-term relationship you were involved in?

GLJ: Since Forget came out, I've been pure bachelor. At this point, my lifestyle has nothing to do with being in a long-term relationship. I'm starting to question the importance of truly coexisting with someone, if it's really healthy at all. I've had a lot of friends get married in the last two years, and I've seen the stereotype of marriage played out through them. It looks so negative to me. I also really fucking love a great wedding, though, so we'll see what happens.

Pitchfork: A report from the end of 2011 suggested that the marriage rate amongst young people is declining.

GLJ: It's the evolution of our minds. Obviously, the church fucked up and lost their grip. I know more people are getting into polygamy now. There's a lot of kids showing off and thinking they can handle being with several people. I think we're moving towards a sexual revolution, and the internet has helped in so many ways. Girls can make money on the internet at home on a webcam, safely. That's a big deal. It's about rethinking what your parents did, not trying to make the same mistakes, and trying to figure it out again. I think that's amazing and beautiful.

Pitchfork: Tell me about the motorcycle ride that inspired Confess.

GLJ: About eight years ago, I was in a motorcycle accident with a friend riding on the back, a big guy. We were riding in Boston on my first motorcycle ever, a big bike. I was really careless at that point. We were going up the street and the front brake was locking up, and I just was trying to gun through it. I kept the wheel moving, and the whole bike just slid out from under us, right down the road. We fell and my helmet popped off. He rolled around on the ground. It could've been so much worse, but any time you fall off a motorcycle, it's really shocking. If you're going 10 miles per hour faster, it's the difference between life and death. We were lucky.

The first time I felt comfortable on a motorcycle again was when I bought my new [one] in Los Angeles. I was out there riding, and as I thought about that accident, I pushed the motorcycle to higher speeds. I considered a lot of things. I considered the moment I spent in the hospital this year. I considered death. I considered how important Twin Shadow is to the world. Does the world need Twin Shadow? I came to this decision at the end, that, "Yes, this is what I want to do and ultimately this is the most beautiful thing I could offer up in my life." It's what I have to do. It was a reaffirming moment that was important for me to communicate.